Free Biarritz Passion: A French Summer Novel by Laurette Long Page A

stunning, her hair caught back in a white silk scarf, her face tanned golden by the Greek sun. For a moment she looked so much like their mother that Caroline felt her heart miss a beat.
    ‘Darlings! Whoohoo! What a simply glorious day!’
    Julian had hurried round to help her out of the car. She was wearing fawn trousers in a silky material, impeccably cut, with a blue silk top under the deceptively casual jacket, which thought Caroline, looked a lot like Armani. Around her tanned neck several fine gold chains were wound in careless profusion.
    ‘Annabel my pet, you’re looking so well.’
    Margaret kissed her niece and turned to greet Julian.
    ‘How are you Julian? So kind of you to give up your holiday weekend to come and visit a couple of old women.’
    ‘Nonsense Miss MacDonald, I’m deeply flattered to have been invited and on this weekend in particular.’
    The voice was well-modulated, the handsome face politely attentive. He could have been a young royal, thought Caroline, who had never seen Julian anything other than the model of reserved affability, his rather old-fashioned manners polished by years of public school education and the obligatory three years at Cambridge.
    ‘Lovely to see you, Caroline.’
    He leaned forward to kiss her cheek and she caught the smell of expensive aftershave and was uncomfortably aware of her faded Levis and flat sandals.
    ‘Caro you sneaky thing! You beat us to it!’ said Annabel, giving her sister an air kiss on both cheeks.
    ‘Your sister came down yesterday and has done nothing but sleep since she arrived,’ said Birdie ushering everyone towards the table where the coffee things still stood. ‘I’ll go and put on a fresh pot, shall I?’
    ‘That would be lovely, if it’s not too much trouble,’ said Julian, sitting down in one of the garden chairs and loosening his cravat.
    A cravat ? thought Caroline, watching in fascination. The pair of them looked as though they had just stepped out of an advertisement in ‘Tatler’.
    ‘ Mr Julian Bartholomew Courtenay and his glamorous fiancée, Annabel Gwendoline MacDonald, took a Bank Holiday spin through the English countryside in their latest model BMW sports coupé. Their sparkling presence was a must at the jolly 80 th celebrations in honour of Annabel’s Aunt Margaret, doyenne of Willowdale Farm, a charming 18 th century residence that has been in the MacDonald family for simply aeons. Annabel’s elder sister Caroline was one of the merry revellers, disguised as Sarah Lund in a pair of old jeans with her hair in a ratty ponytail. You could have fooled us, Caroline! Maple-glazed nightingales and a ceviche of sea urchins were served with the celebratory tipple. By Jove.’
    ‘ Earth to Caro!’
    ‘ Sorry?’
    Caroline sat up straight.
    ‘ I said, dear sister, did you come down yesterday evening?’ said Annabel, sitting next to her fiancé and putting a protective hand on his arm. ‘The traffic must have been horrendous.’
    ‘No, I took an e xtra day off. I’m not indispensable,’ she added, in answer to her sister’s surprised look.
    ‘Really darling? I thought the place fell apart if you weren’t there to drill the troops. Oh Jules! The cadeau !’
    Annabel sprang to her feet again and threw her arms round Margaret’s neck.
    ‘Happy birthday dearest Auntie Mags!’
    ‘Steady on child you’re choking me to death,’ protested Margaret, patting her niece’s back.
    Julian had gone over to the car. He returned bearing a box wrapped in gold and white paper with an enormous bow. Birdie clapped her hands. Watching her aunt remove the layers of tissue, Caroline wondered what her sister had chosen. Her taste was unerring; she always seemed to know just what people secretly desired.
    There was a little gasp as Margaret lifted a delicate porcelain figure of a shepherdess out of the tissue paper. It was exquisitely worked, and the pale tints of the porcelain enhanced the fragile beauty of the little girl. On the